


Home for Christmas

by katierosefun



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, College Student Peter Parker, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Not Spider-Man: Far From Home Compliant, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Feels, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Sick Peter Parker, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:02:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21873391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katierosefun/pseuds/katierosefun
Summary: Or: four times Tony Stark and Peter Parker spent Christmas away from home or were late for Christmas, and the one time they finally managed to get home for Christmas together.Updated daily.
Relationships: May Parker & Peter Parker, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe) & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 8
Kudos: 89





	1. snow

Peter wasn’t expecting Tony to be waiting in front of his dorm door on Christmas afternoon, but then again, Peter hadn’t expected to stay on campus until Christmas, either, so he figured he shouldn’t be quite as surprised.

“C’mon, kid,” Tony said, a corner of his lips quirking into a smirk, “you act like you’ve never had surprise visits before.”

“Tony,” Peter only said, and then, blinking, he asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Well, the folks back home all know about your heroic…staying in Cambridge until Christmas to get rid of the—who’s the guy that’s been bothering you guys?” Tony paused, but before Peter could answer, Tony waved a hand. “Doesn’t matter right now. Anyways, I know you’ve already got train tickets, so I’m riding along and making sure you get home safe and sound and in time for evening Christmas shenanigans.”

“You’re telling me…” Peter said slowly, furrowing his brow, “that you came all the way to Cambridge…just to bring me back to New York?”

Tony shrugged. “I was bored,” he replied, and tilting his head at Peter’s door, he asked, “So have you got your things packed or what?”

“I—yeah,” Peter stammered, and after grappling with his room key for a moment, Peter pushed open the door. Ned had gone back home nearly a week before Peter, at Peter’s own insistence. (“You can be my man in the chair remotely,” Peter had told Ned when his friend had protested. “Spend some time with your family. I’ve got this.”) Needless to say, it had been a bit lonely, coming back to an empty room after Peter finished his own patrols, but at least he’d be home for Christmas.

Now, Peter reached for his suitcase and searched for any last-minute things to throw inside. An extra t-shirt. Sneakers. His laptop charger. All the while, he was all the more aware of how Tony was standing in his small room, undoubtedly surveying the area.

“Finals really got you,” Tony said, nodding at the mess of reports and notebooks sitting on Peter’s desk. He picked up one of the notebooks and, flipping through the pages, he asked, “How much actual sleep did you get?”

“Um…” Peter paused, just about to close his suitcase. “Don’t know.”

“I’m going to assume not a lot,” Tony said.

“Well, it wasn’t _not_ not a lot,” Peter said, setting up his suitcase. “I mean…I’m awake right now, aren’t I?”

“Patrolling, finals…” Tony held up the notebook and, squinting at the pages, he said, “And you have an equation about how much ‘espresso you need to calm down the depresso’—”

“Okay, okay,” Peter said hastily, grabbing away the notebook. We’re about to head back. So no more crazy equations.”

“Agreed,” Tony said. As they walked to Peter’s door, Tony added, “You know, kid, I got worried for a second—don’t need any more insomniacs running around the house on Christmas. Morgan’s already insisting on staying up past ten, which, by the way, is a whole hour later than Pepper wants her in bed.”

“Got it,” Peter said, a weak laugh. “I’ll crash when we get home.”

“Yeah,” Tony replied, but his expression softened. Patting a hand on Peter’s shoulder, Tony added, “Let’s get you home, then.”

And an hour later, Peter and Tony both crashed into the Amtrak train seats. “You should actually get some sleep now,” Tony said once their tickets were checked in. “You’ll need your energy for at least the portion where everyone fawns over you, and the presents and Steve singing…”

Yeah,” Peter grinned, although he barely needed Tony to let him know to sleep. Already, the rumbling of the train on its tracks was already lulling Peter into what he knew would turn into a long, hard nap. That, mixed with the oncoming darkness and the warmth of Tony’s presence right next to him made Peter’s eyelids grow heavier with each passing second.

“You don’t mind?” Peter asked, looking up at Tony.

“You’re back for, what, a month? We’ll have plenty of time to catch up,” Tony said, waving a hand. “Sleep away.”

And with a smile, Peter rolled his head towards the window—because of course he had taken the window seat—and let himself drift into a blissful sleep.

\--

“— _sorry for the delay, folks, but the snow seems to have_ —”

Peter stirred awake. His whole body felt stiff from the kind of sleep that one falls under in a long ride. Peter also became aware that the side of his face felt warm and rubbed sore, and when he opened his eyes, he registered that he had fallen asleep on Tony’s shoulder.

“Sorry,” Peter said, pulling away.

“It’s fine,” Tony said, but there was a wrinkle between his eyebrows, and for a moment, Peter wondered if it hadn’t been fine after all—but then Tony said, “We’re stuck.”

Peter blinked. “What?”

“We’re stuck. The train,” Tony replied. “Snowed harder than expected—that, mixed with rain. There’s icy tracks up ahead.”

Peter’s heart sank. “Oh,” he said. “So does that mean…”

“All of the other trains have been cancelled,” Tony said. “But for now, we’re stuck here until some people can figure out how to get us moving again.” He looked at Peter, the expression on his face almost disappointed. “Looks like we’re going to be late for your first Christmas back home from school.”

“It’s okay,” Peter said, trying to lighten his voice. “I get it. This would be a bad time to move the train.” Peter shrugged. “And besides, there’ll be more Christmases.” Before Tony could say anything, Peter sank back into his seat and looked out the window. Sure enough, snow was coating the tracks and trees beyond.

“Hey, Pep,” Peter heard Tony say behind him. “Yeah, Peter’s awake now. We’re stuck in the snow. The train can’t move forward.” There was a pause, and then a sigh, and then, “Yeah, I know—we’ll try to get home as fast as we can.”

That gave Peter the idea to text May. He pulled out his phone, but a message from his aunt was already waiting for him:

_Checked the train updates. I can’t believe you guys are stuck!!_

Peter smiled sadly down at his phone and tapped out, _I know. We’ll be back eventually, though._

“I’ll be back,” Tony said when Peter looked back up.

Peter stared. “Where are you going?”

“Just going to check on something real quick,” Tony said. He lifted a finger. “Don’t worry—I’ll be back in a few minutes.” With that, he darted from his seat, leaving Peter to stare quizzically after Tony’s hurrying figure.

Peter slumped back into his seat and looked back down at his phone. May had texted him again.

_Maybe the conductor will figure something out???_

_Maybe,_ Peter texted back. As soon as he sent the text message, another text came in—this time from Tony.

 _So I might be gone for a little longer than a few minutes. Hang tight, though, everything’s fine_.

Peter stared down at his phone. He only just processed the _everything’s fine_ when suddenly, the conductor came back on the speaker.

“We’ll start moving again shortly,” the conductor said. “Due to the weather, we won’t be moving as fast as we normally would, but everyone will get back home in time for the holidays.”

A cheer went up through the cabin, but Peter still stared down at the message. Tony had to have something to do with the train moving again—he just had to, Peter knew. But why wouldn’t Tony come back even after the train started moving?

There was a low grinding sound from the bottom of the train, and the train started moving again. As the conductor had said, the train was moving slower, but they were also moving at a speed just so that the trees were passing by Peter’s window in a matter of a few seconds.

Peter frowned, standing up slowly. But the train didn’t feel like it was _moving_ , either. Peter paused, and above all the noise, he could hear a faint, high-pitched squeal of what must have been the train against the tracks. Regular trains, Peter knew after a lifetime of riding trains and subways, didn’t squeak like that under a long amount of time.

Peter paused and, looking down at the _everything’s fine_ one last time, he strode through the cabin in the direction Tony had went.

In every cabin, people were going back to their usual train routines—reading through magazines, books, watching videos on their phones, but no one seemed concerned with exactly _how_ the train had resumed movement. Even the other train attendants looked at total ease,

When Peter finally reached the conductor’s cabin, the conductor was flipping through some app on his phone. “’scuse me?” he asked, and the conductor whirled around in surprise.

“Sorry,” Peter said quickly, lifting his hands. “I just—I was wondering if everything’s okay with the train? I heard some squeaking, and I know sometimes trains can squeak, and I don’t know if maybe it’s just because this train is super old, but—” Then Peter caught sight of something red and gold glinting in front of the train, and the conductor, following his gaze, quickly scrambled up.

“Nothing to see here, young man,” the conductor said, quickly stuffing her phone in her back pocket. “Everything’s under control—”

But Peter didn’t hear the rest of what the conductor was saying, because he was hurrying back to his cabin. He only had to root around his backpack for a few seconds before pulling out his own suit—or, more specifically, the watch that Tony had made him. “I know you actually like having your suit, but trust me, this can be handy in emergencies,” Tony said when he had made Peter the watch. “In case you’re ever in a tight spot and you don’t want to look suspicious.”

Peter slid the watch on now and slamming one of the doors open, Peter leapt out into the cold just in time for his suit to stretch over his skin. By the time he was fully wearing his suit, Peter had stuck himself to a wall of the train. When Peter looked down at the train’s wheels, he found that, sure enough, all of the gears were still locked in place. Nothing was moving at all.

Groaning, Peter hurried to the front of the train.

And found Tony—or, more specifically, Tony in his Iron Man suit—hauling the train over his shoulder with a length of rope.

“What are you _doing_?” Peter asked, stunned.

Tony turned around, and even though his face was masked by the helmet, Peter could imagine the disbelief on his face as he asked back, “What are _you_ doing? I told you everything’s fine!”

“I didn’t think _everything’s fine_ meant that you were pulling an entire _train_!” Peter said, scrambling down to Tony’s side. “How’re you even _doing_ that? That’s insane!” Peter looked over at the rope holding the train. “Are you doing that with the suit? _How_ are you able to do that with the suit? Does Steve know about this? Can _Steve_ pull a train? Why are you _pulling a train_?”

“Kid,” Tony huffed, “I appreciate the enthusiasm, but it’s kind of hard to concentrate on pulling a train when I have you buzzing around in my ear.”

“Sorry,” Peter said quickly. But after a moment of silence, he asked, “Why are you _pulling a train_?”

“We’ll still be late for Christmas,” Tony replied. “But at this rate, we can get in at midnight instead of tomorrow morning.” He turned to Peter. “Now go back inside—you’ve got to relax.”

“I’m fine,” Peter replied. “And…” He looked from the train to Tony. “Just…do you need help?”

Tony let out something that might have either been a laugh or a groan. “Can you pull a train by sheer strength alone?”

“Um…” Peter paused. “I lifted up an entire building once?”

Tony almost stumbled. “You _what_ —”

“So I can probably pull a train,” Peter said hurriedly. He grabbed a part of the rope and hauling it over his shoulder, ground his feet into the ground and pulled as hard as he could. To both his relief and surprise, the train seemed to move just a little faster.

“You don’t have to do this,” Tony said, glancing over at Peter. “You’ve done enough already.”

“Nah,” Peter said. “I took a nap. I’ll be fine.”

“Peter—” Tony took a breath, and when Peter turned to look at him, Tony shook his head. “Sorry, just trying to catch my breath. Let’s try that again. _Peter_.”

“Yeah?”

“I know you stayed on campus to keep up with your hero-saving duties, but…” Tony paused again, but this time, Peter had the feeling it didn’t have anything to do with the fact that they were dragging a train. “Just take it easy, okay? You’re still a kid.”

“I’m eighteen,” Peter protested. He had meant to say his words like a fact, but even he could hear the argument brimming under his voice. “I’m not a kid anymore.”

“I’m sure you feel that way,” Tony said. “And that’s good on you—knowing to grow up and mature, that’s good. I’m not telling you to stop growing up. _But_.”

“But?” Peter asked, looking at the tracks ahead.

“You’re still a freshman at college. You’ve got whole other things to do. Things to _learn_.” Tony glanced over at Peter. “What I’m saying is, Peter, is that just make sure you’re not just Spider-Man. You’re also Peter Parker. Because if you get that mixed up, well…” Tony didn’t have to finish, and Peter didn’t need to ask him to continue. He knew. They both knew. Peter, finding Tony still awake and pacing the garage. And Tony, finding Peter slumped over on the couch after spending more than three days on his feet.

“Okay,” Peter said quietly.

“Okay?”

Peter nodded. “Okay,” he said. “I guess I…” He shrugged. “Everyone in school seems to want to do everything,” he said, his gaze drifting from the tracks ahead to his feet. “I mean, it’s Cambridge. There’s all these _crazy smart_ people at MIT, and they all want to do these _super_ great things with the world—and then there’s people everywhere else in the area. I mean, there’s _so many schools_ just within a fifty-mile radius, and it feels like everyone I meet has just got everything to do and—” He took a breath. “I don’t know. That’s all great for them, but I’ve got _this_ to do, you know? Not to put on my resume or whatever. Just…I’m just doing it. And people don’t know that I’m doing this just to do it—so I have to put all these _other_ things on my list—like, I’m a part of _five_ clubs. How do I have time for five clubs?”

“You don’t,” Tony said factually.

“Exactly,” Peter said, relieved. “I don’t know. Everyone just kind of gets to my head after a while.”

“Yeah,” Tony said quietly. “That can make for a pretty loud head after a while.”

“Yeah,” Peter agreed. They drifted into silence, and for a while, it was only Peter and Tony pulling along the train until finally, Peter asked, “Were you…ever like that? When you were going to school?”

“Well, I hadn’t made the suit when I was in MIT,” Tony said. “Rhodey was always more of the overachiever when it came to clubs and stuff. I spent most of my time going to the parties. And holding them, of course.” At that, both Tony and Peter laughed. “But for all seriousness,” Tony added, “yeah—it got to me sometimes, too. Fifteen years old, remember. Surrounded by a bunch of older kids who were wondering if maybe I was just some spoiled rich brat whose daddy pulled a few extra strings.”

“They were right about the spoiled rich brat part,” Tony said after a moment of consideration. “But they stopped talking about that after I wiped them in all the exams.” There was a bit of smugness in Tony’s voice now, the kind of smugness that made Peter smile a little bit. “But I didn’t _do nothing_ to wipe them. I still studied. I just pretended I didn’t. Which was a little more exhausting—don’t do that. Pretty sure it was more exhausting juggling party Tony with study Tony.”

“Long story short,” Tony said, letting out a breath. “Avoid burnout because it’s real. You know, learn to live a bit. Which is what you’re going to do once we finally go home.”

Peter smiled at his feet. “Thanks.” He looked at Tony. “Can’t wait.”

“Neither can I, kid.”

\--

By the time Peter and Tony finally reached the lake house, it was indeed a little past midnight, but the lights were still on—and just as soon as they stepped on the porch, the door flung open.

Peter only just processed May’s beaming face before he was crushed into a hug. “You guys finally made it!” she said into Peter’s ear, and Peter smiled into May’s shoulder.

“’Course,” Peter said, and he lifted his eyes to see Morgan hopping off the couch. She was, despite what Peter assumed were probably Pepper’s protests, still wide awake. Steve and Bucky cheerfully lifted glasses up to Peter from the kitchen island, and Thor and Bruce were getting up from their seats in the living room to join the commotion. From somewhere on Peter’s left, he heard Pepper saying something like, “I don’t know whether to kill you or kiss you”, which Peter assumed meant that Tony had told her how they had finally gotten home.

“Maybe kissing me would be the better option,” Peter heard Tony say, which made everyone around them laugh.

“Look at you,” May said, pulling Peter away at an arm’s length. “Finally back!”

“Little late for Christmas,” Peter said sheepishly.

“Just a little,” May agreed. She tugged Peter into the house and, gesturing at the people already waiting, she added, “But we decided to make sure Christmas would stay a little longer for you.”

And as Peter and Tony finally sat down on the couch, Tony asked, “So, how’re you feeling?”

Peter grinned. “Good,” he said honestly, and he sank back into the couches. “Good to be back.”


	2. sick

“How you doing?”

Peter rubbed a hand over his eyes and, registering Tony sitting at his bedside, he mumbled, “Not good.”

“Yeah, didn’t think you were,” Tony replied. “Your immune system must have crashed after coming home.”

Peter could only nod weakly in agreement. Ned had been sick the weak of finals, and so had some of his other friends. Peter had miraculously been able to avoid the worst of the school plague, and everyone had been surprised. “How are you _not_ sick?” MJ had asked, exasperated when Peter had talked to her over the phone on one of the weekends. Of course, MJ, like everyone else, had caught _something_ , even though she kept trying to deny it whenever Peter brought it up. “You run around Cambridge and Boston all night, so your immune system has _got_ to be in worse shape than _all_ of us.”

“Spider genes?” Peter had suggested, but he had guessed that he was just lucky—because he _had_ gotten sick before, even with the radioactive spider bite.

But Peter had thought that luck was really going to hold him out for the rest of the holidays, at least. And then the last few days happened. It started with a little cough at first, but then that little cough snowballed into the kind of cough that made Peter feel like Hulk had stepped on his lungs. And of course, when he woke up, everything hurt, and May had reported that he had a fever.

Which meant that Peter would officially spend his sophomore Christmas stuck in bed at Tony’s house.

“You should go,” Peter mumbled, hiding half of his face in his pillow. “Don’t wanna get anyone else sick.”

“My immune system’s fine,” Tony replied. “Spent two, three years with a baby, and I’m pretty sure I’ve got a stronger system than Steve. And that’s saying a lot.”

Peter laughed weakly, but that laugh stuck in his throat, and Peter rolled over completely on his side away from Tony as the coughing fit took over. Pain exploded at the back of his throat and traveled down to his lungs, and Peter’s whole body strained as the coughs shook him.

“Hold on,” Peter heard Tony say, alarmed, and then Peter felt Tony’s hand on his back. “You’re good, you’re good, you’re good.”

Peter shuddered in a long breath—in and out, and for a few seconds, that was the only sound that filled the otherwise painful silence.

“Right,” Tony said. “Water? I’m gonna get you water.”

A second later, Tony re-appeared on the other side of Peter’s bed, glass of water in hand. “Don’t chug it down,” Tony advised as Peter sat up.

“Thanks,” Peter croaked. Looking down at the glass, he said, “This sucks.”

“You just have to get some rest,” Tony replied. “And then you’ll be all better for the rest of break.”

“I guess,” Peter said. He drank down the water and, after setting the glass back down on the nightstand, slumped back into his pillow. His head hurt—it had honestly been hurting since last night, and the shades had been drawn so there wouldn’t be any harsh light to irritate him further, but now Peter wasn’t sure if the darkness was helping at all or not.

“What about your fever?” Tony asked, and before Peter could say anything, Tony pressed a cool hand against Peter’s forehead. After a pause, he said, “Well, still warm, but better than this morning.” He dropped his hand against Peter’s leg. “Thinking of getting some more sleep?”

Peter pushed his hands up to his face. “I’ve been sleeping all day,” he mumbled. “I don’t even think I’m capable of sleeping anymore.”

“Fair.”

There was a silence and then, Tony said slowly, “You know, there’s no one else in the house right now.” At Peter’s puzzled look, Tony continued, “Pepper and May took Morgan out to the store with them. They’ll be away for a few hours, probably negotiating with Morgan if we need any more frosting.” He jerked his head towards the door. “So basically, you can get out of quarantine for a bit. It’s stuffy in here.”

Peter hesitated. “I don’t know…”

“C’mon,” Tony said, standing up. “It’s Christmas.” He nodded down at Peter. “And to be honest, you look miserable.”

Peter almost laughed, but remembering how his last laugh went, decided to hold it in. “Fair.” He pushed his legs over the side of the bed. He only took a few wobbly steps before he crashed right into Tony. “Sorry, sorry,” he mumbled.

“Jelly legs?” Tony only asked. At Peter’s sheepish nod, Tony gently pushed Peter upright against his side. “Alright, then. We’ll go slow.”

Eventually, they made their way into the living room. Peter collapsed into the couch, and sure enough, the air felt less stuffy than it had been in his room. It was brighter, too, but it was the gentle warm brightness of the lamps and not the harsh, blinding white of the winter morning light before.

“Hungry?” Tony asked. “Don’t know how much your stomach can handle…soup? Toast? Both?”

Peter’s stomach growled, and at that, Tony’s lips twitched into a smile. “Both,” he decided, and he walked out to the kitchen. Peter smiled to himself, sinking into the couch. He looked out the wide windows. It was already dark out, but the lights that Tony and Pepper had set up in the weeks before made the whole backyard glow.

Tony reappeared a few minutes later with a bowl of soup and a few slices of toast and—

“Ice cream?” Peter asked, nodding at the pint of Ben and Jerry’s in Tony’s other hand.

“Not the flavor they named after me,” Tony said, looking down at the pint—Chocolate Fudge Brownie—and, looking back at Peter, Tony added, “But I figured this wouldn’t hurt. But you have to have the soup first.” With that, he handed the bowl to Peter. “And, if you’re not too tired after that, choose a movie. Or a board game. Or something mildly entertaining, so long as it’s not chess. Deal?”

Peter grinned. “Deal.”

\--

“If you build _one more hotel_ —”

“Sorry, Tony—”

“Come _on_ , Peter!”

Peter snickered as he set up the red figurines on the square of the Monopoly set. “Better not get stuck here,” he said, looking up at Tony, who looked on the verge of throwing over the board game. “It would suck to go bankrupt.”

“You know, I was playing easy on you,” Tony muttered. “Sick kid, my ass—no sick kid plays like _that_.”

“Well, this one does!” Peter crowed.

“Hang on, don’t shout—you’ll just hurt your throat more—”

Peter was about to argue that his throat couldn’t possibly hurt any more than it already had, but then the front door opened.

“Morgan, we already told you that we have enough frosting at home,” Peter heard Pepper say, exasperated.

“What if Peter wants more frosting?” Morgan complained.

“I think Peter’s okay with the amount of frosting we already have,” came May’s response, and then the three voices quieted as Pepper, May, and Morgan all came to the living room.

Peter and Tony both looked up from the board game. “I don’t think there’s ever such thing as too much frosting,” Peter said casually.

“Maybe the kid’s onto something,” Tony added.

May and Pepper only stared, stunned, and then Morgan ran forward, crying, “You’re finally awake!”

That seemed to snap both May and Pepper out of their surprise.

“You’re feeling better?” May asked, sitting down next to Peter.

“I thought you said you were going to let Peter rest?” Pepper asked, looking at Tony.

“I’m feeling a little better,” Peter replied as May pressed her hand against Peter’s forehead. “Tony and I were just playing Monopoly.”

“You two were playing _Monopoly_?” Pepper asked, stunned, still looking at Tony. “You _hate_ —”

“I still hate it,” Tony interrupted, “but the kid chose Monopoly.”

May turned to Peter. “So you two were having fun?” she asked, amused.

Peter looked over at Tony, who was innocently knocking over one of Peter’s hotels. At that, Peter grinned. “Yeah,” he replied. “We were.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ironically, I also woke up feeling a little under the weather, so...life imitates art? (Only I do not have Tony Stark dadding over me, sadly.) 
> 
> As always, comments/kudos are greatly appreciated!


	3. planet

“So that went well.”

Peter looked at Tony from across the cell, but Tony wasn’t looking at him. Instead, Tony’s head was tilted back against the wall, his eyes focused on the grimy ceiling. “Space is fine,” Tony said. “Nothing could go wrong, right? Because everything went _great_ the first time around.” Tony pushed a hand up to his face. “I swear once I see Thor, I’m going to—” Tony broke himself off with a shaky breath.

“Tony?” Peter called in a small voice.

Tony seemed to only just register that Peter was across from him. “Yeah,” he said, his eyes focusing. “Yeah. Sorry. Just went…” He shook his head. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

“Yeah,” Peter replied, but he still watched Tony carefully. “Getting out of here would be good.” Among other things, Peter noted. He knew that agreeing to go to space with Thor was probably a bad idea, but Thor had been so excited for “his turn to bring the young man on an adventure”—only Peter had thought that ‘adventure’ meant going to a movie theater or something, not a planet whole galaxies away. He had still agreed to it, but then Tony had caught wind of the trip, and they had both gotten into Thor’s trip just a night before Christmas Eve.

Tony had been on-edge the whole time. Peter knew Tony was trying to hide it the whole time—Tony would smile whenever Peter turned to check on him, and Peter would see the strain every time. The kind of strain that made Peter wish he could tell Thor to take them back, but at the same time, he didn’t want to hurt Thor’s feelings—or make Tony feel worse than he probably already was.

And the trip had been fine, for the most part. They landed on some forest planet, and for a second, Peter almost thought they were back home until Thor (excitedly) pointed out the birds and the plants. The birds were all the size of airplanes, and the plants themselves did the strangest things: sing, squirt odd orange ink, start conversations.

But of course, Thor forgot to mention that there were still some unfriendly inhabitants on the planet. Which was how Tony and Peter got separated from Thor and were now stuck in a cell.

“Thor will probably find us,” Peter said as he stood up. His head bumped slightly against the ceiling. The inhabitants that had taken Tony and Peter in had been short, so Peter supposed he should be grateful that he could fit in the cell at all. Peter pressed his hands against the ceiling, feeling for some kind of weakness in the material. But Peter suspected his own strength would be that great a match for whatever the cell had in store—Tony had already tried blasting through the walls only to no avail.

“Okay,” Peter said, dropping his hands against his sides. “So…I can’t do anything.” He gave the ceiling another push, as though it were the lid to a box. “Thor will probably find us,” Peter repeated. “Right?” He looked at Tony. “I mean, he’s been here before, right?”

“Knowing Thor, he must have,” Tony said, standing up. He looked up at the ceiling with Peter and then turned to the cell doors. “Or maybe our captors will come for us first.” At the silence that followed, Tony added, “They have to check on us some time. There’s a chance we can lure them into the cell and…”

“Break out on our own,” Peter finished. He nodded. “That sounds like a plan.” He leaned against the wall. “So do we just wait?”

“Don’t feel like waiting,” Tony replied. He kicked at the door and, louder than Peter expected, Tony shouted, “Hey! Anyone out there? _Anyone?_ ”

When no answer came, Tony shouted louder, “What’s all the quiet for? No house manners?”

“I don’t think they’re gonna answer to that,” Peter said.

Tony stopped kicking at the door. “Worth a shot,” he said, and he leaned against the wall next to Peter. “Thought so, at least.” He stared out the door and after a moment of quiet, he asked, “Did you know it’s probably already Christmas back home?”

Peter started. Then, looking at Tony, he replied, “I guess so.” He bit down on the inside of his cheek. “Roughly? Maybe? I don’t know how space time works with Earth time.”

“It’s got to be,” Tony replied. “By now, at least.”

“Oh.” Peter thought about how May had been in charge of organizing the Christmas party. She had been so excited, and she had spent most of the week with Pepper going over last-minute details. Peter had baked cookies with Morgan in preparation, too. MJ was going to be coming over, too. Peter’s heart sank at that. “I guess we’ll be a little late this year.”

For a moment, neither Tony nor Peter said anything.

Then, suddenly, Tony said, “I’m sorry, kid.”

Peter stared. “You can’t think this is your fault.”

When Tony didn’t respond, Peter added, “I _chose_ to come up here. You didn’t have anything to do with this.” He paused. “If there’s anyone who should be sorry, it should be me.” When Tony started, Peter added quickly, “You don’t like space—I know that—but you came anyways, and now we’re stuck here, and if I had just told Thor that I didn’t mind staying on Earth, then none of this would have happened, and we’d all be back home for Christmas.”

“Kid—”

“It’s true,” Peter said, scuffing his foot against the ground. “You don’t like getting off Earth.”

“Yeah, I don’t like getting off Earth, but that doesn’t mean this is your _fault_ ,” Tony argued. He searched Peter’s face. “I came because I wanted to make sure you would get home safe. I trust Thor—I do—but…” His voice trailed away briefly, sadly, and Peter knew what Tony was thinking about because Peter was thinking the same thing, too. Even after a few years, Peter knew that their own memories of the last time they were in space were still seared into their memories. For Peter, a vast orange sky—then feeling parts of him drift away, and then nothingness, and then suddenly being thrust back into the world. For Tony, Peter knew it had to be worse. Tony didn’t talk about what happened after Peter got dusted too often, but the late nights were enough for Peter to get a hint of what was left.

“I just wanted to make sure,” Tony said quietly. “So whatever happens—I knew what I was getting myself into.”

“We both did,” Peter mumbled, kicking at the ground. “I just…” He lifted his shoulders. “I thought that I’d be ready for this too.” He looked at Tony. “It feels kind of stupid sometimes, you know? I mean, _space_ —like _Star Wars_ and stuff, but it’s just still…” His voice faltered, and he looked back at the cell. Aware of how small his own voice was, Peter said, “This stuff always seems cooler in the movies.” He let out a small, disbelieved laugh. “I really thought this was gonna be cool, too.”

“Everything seems cooler in the movies,” Tony replied with an equally disbelieved huff of what might have been a laugh. “Explosions, gods, aliens…”

“Time travel, bank heists, prison breaks…” Peter felt a small smile play on his lips.

Tony smiled back, but then it faltered. “Christmas parties.”

“It’s okay,” Peter said quietly. He looked at the cell door. “At least we’re not alone.”

He felt Tony’s eyes on him. “Yeah,” Tony said at last. “I guess not.”

\--

Peter started awake to the sound of the cell door being ripped off its hinges.

“Ah, there you two are!” Thor boomed. “I looked all over the place for you!”

Peter shielded his eyes as Thor entered the cell. “Now, we must hurry, friends,” he said, dragging both Peter and a still half-asleep Tony off the floor. “No time to waste. I’m afraid I might have angered some of our friends back in the other room.” As if on cue, Peter heard a series of angry clicking and clucking sounds that vaguely reminded him of chickens and other farm animals.

“What…” Peter started to say, but Tony was alert first.

“No time,” Tony said, shaking his head. “Go.” And with that, Tony pushed Peter after Thor, and then the three of them were diving through tunnels and dark caverns until finally, they reached a light that turned into a vast green space—and Thor’s ship.

“Hurry!” Thor said, looking over his shoulder. Peter heard rapid footsteps behind them, but he didn’t dare look as he mounted the ship, Tony at his side. Peter felt the hairs on his arms stand up as he heard the roar of thunder and a crackle of lightning.

“What’s going on?” Peter gasped, slamming himself down into a seat.

“Thor’s doing his Thor thing,” Tony replied, equally out of breath. He slammed into the seat next to Peter. “Just hope that the big guy gets in quick.”

Sure enough, Thor came barreling into the ship, and Peter noticed that his hair, too, was prickling with electricity. “Well,” Thor said cheerfully, “that was some unwanted attention. Now, shall we go back to Earth, my friends?”

“That’d be nice,” Peter murmured. He looked at Tony. “I guess we’ll be a little late, but—”

“We’ll take it,” Tony finished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blrrrrgh I don't really feel proud of this chapter, but I hope ya'll found it somewhat bearable...? Hoping that tomorrow's chapter will be better. 
> 
> As always, comments/constructive criticism/kudos are always appreciated!!!


	4. hospital

The house was in chaos.

And for once, Peter had nothing to do with it. Considering he had been able to sit on the couch for the last three hours without either Pepper or May grabbing hold of him, Peter was secretly pleased to stay in this position. And so was Morgan, who was splayed out across the rug. She flipped a page in her book and, at a sudden shout somewhere in the house, she lifted her head at Peter.

When Peter only shrugged, Morgan nodded and returned to her book.

A minute later, Pepper came marching into the kitchen, Tony right behind her. “I didn’t _think_ they’d show up early,” Tony was saying. “How am _I_ supposed to stay on track with messages from _outer space_?”

“If you can learn quantum physics in an hour, I’m _sure_ you can find a way to accurately check messages from Thor and Bruce,” Pepper snapped. “The guest rooms aren’t even _ready yet_ —”

A minute later, Thor and Bruce came wandering into the sitting room. Peter looked up at their sheepish grins and only nodded to one of the other couches. The men plopped down on the couch in unison, and their shared silence was so awkward that it was almost comical.

Finally, Morgan lifted her head from her book and, eyeing Thor and Bruce, she asked, “Do you guys want soda or water or something?”

When Thor and Bruce mumbled affirmations, Morgan dutifully pulled herself up from the rug and walked into the kitchen. Peter turned around to see her walk silently past Tony and Pepper, who were still jabbering around the kitchen island.

“What about Steve and Bucky? Sam? Nat? Are they still on schedule?” Pepper was asking. “Or have you not checked messages from them, either?”

“Last I checked—”

“Tony. When was the last time you checked?”

“Last night!”

“You didn’t check this morning?”

“You _know_ Nat doesn’t send messages that often, and it takes Steve _forever_ to type _anything_ on that stupid flip phone of his—”

Morgan quietly returned with a glass of water for Bruce and a Coke for Thor. “Don’t worry,” she whispered as she handed off the drinks. “Daddy says Mommy’s stressed, and Mommy says Daddy’s not stressed enough. They’ll be back to normal in a few minutes.”

“Sounds like Tony and Pepper,” Bruce murmured, taking a sip of water.

“Perhaps the two could use a mediator,” Thor suggested. “I’ve settled a great many conflict—”

“Maybe not,” Peter said hurriedly, closing his laptop. He turned around to Tony and Pepper and then back at Thor and Bruce. “Best to just let them work out whatever they’ve got going, you know?”

As soon as those words left his lips, he heard a calming, “Alright, you two. This is just an early surprise. Everyone’s fine—the guest rooms will be _fine_ —” Peter turned around to find May already standing between Tony and Pepper, and though her voice remained level, Peter knew that look on her face to be the kind of look that would make other adults straight-up quake.

Peter turned back a round to Thor and Bruce, satisfied. “May’s got it.”

“We can tell,” Bruce observed.

“We’ve still got plenty of time before the others arrive,” May continued. “So we’ll be fine. Right? It’s Christmas, after all.” There was a little edge to the end of May’s words, one that Peter saw that both Pepper and Tony took to right away.

“I suppose,” Pepper finally said. She looked at Tony. “But _please_ check your messages.”

“I will,” Tony replied automatically. “Boy scout’s honor.”

At that, a corner of Pepper’s lips twitched. “You would make a terrible boy scout.”

“I was,” Tony admitted.

“There,” May said, satisfied. “Now, off to the rest of today’s business.”

At that, everyone separated—May towards the back deck, where Peter knew she would resume with the decorations, Pepper towards the guest rooms, and Tony to the living room where he promptly slammed himself into the couch seat next to Peter.

“Sorry for the surprise,” Bruce said sheepishly. “We should have contacted you sooner—”

“Nah,” Tony said, waving a hand. “You heard May. This is a nice surprise. Honestly. Just gotta…” Tony tugged out his phone and, narrowing his eyes at the screen, murmured, “Make sure I don’t have any other messages…” His voice drifted away and then, sitting up quickly, he said, “Slight emergency.”

Everyone started, but it was Peter who asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Scott and Hope were supposed to be driving up for a quick visit.” Tony grimaced and, at Peter’s questioning look, he said, “It was Pepper’s idea.”

“Isn’t Hope pregnant?” Peter asked. “Like, _really_ pregnant?”

“Nonsense,” Thor said. “I’ve known plenty of pregnant women who could outstand any living—”

“Didn’t mean it that way,” Peter said quickly. “Totally don’t doubt Hope, but it’s just…” He looked at Tony. “I thought she was due soon?”

“They said they would make it,” Tony replied. He was already standing up. “But the car broke down, and…” Tony looked down at his phone again, his grimace deepening. “And Hope’s water broke.”

Peter’s heart plunged. “So—”

“We’re the closest to them right now,” Tony said. “We can get them to a hospital, but the actual ambulance won’t be able to get them fast enough.” He looked at Thor, Bruce, Morgan, Peter. “Just tell Pepper that I’ve got to help out with something quick. I’ll be back soon.”

“Wait!’ Peter said, pushing his laptop off. “I can come. Ned’s mom works at the hospital—she might be able to get them help faster.” He paused. “I mean, no promises, but…” He shook his head. “It’s cool. Let’s go.”

“You sure?” Tony asked, but Peter was already slinging on his jacket. “I just _said_ this would be quick—I don’t _actually_ think it’ll be—”

“It’ll be fine,” Peter said, nodding to Tony. “Two heads better than one.”

“What about four heads?” Bruce suggested. “We could probably—”

“It’s fine,” Tony said, waving his hand. “You guys just came back from a long trip. Kick back, relax. Make sure Morgan doesn’t light anything on fire. Kidding,” he added hastily as a wide smile stretched across Morgan’s face (and an alarmed look stretched on Bruce and Thor’s faces). “We’ll be back in time for Christmas celebrations.”

\--

“Okay, okay, okay,” Scott kept saying. “Hope, you good? Are you good?” There was a sharp groan, and then Scott quickly said, “Okay, so you’re not good. That’s a decidedly not good sound. Um, breathe? Right? Keep breathing? Guys?” Scott’s voice pitched an octave. “Can you drive any faster?”

“Flooring it right now,” Tony said over his shoulder.

Peter turned around to see Hope gripping Scott’s hand. Her face was completely pale save her cheeks, which were a brighter red than Peter had ever seen them. Sweat dripped down her brow, and her knuckles were white from clutching Scott’s hand so hard. Peter wondered if Scott was hurting at all, but looking at Hope’s expression, Peter had the feeling she was in more pain.

Peter turned back to Tony. “Are we almost there?” he whispered.

“Almost,” Tony whispered back. “Just gotta keep them distracted.”

“Um,” Peter turned back around to Hope and Scott. “Thor and Bruce came early today,” he said. “You guys should have seen Pepper and Tony’s faces.”

“ _Seriously_?” Tony groaned.

“You said keep them distracted!” Peter protested. At Tony’s sidelong look, he squeaked, “Sorry.” Turning back around at Scott and Hope, he tried, “Have you guys chosen baby names yet? Or do you know if it’s gonna be a boy or girl yet?”

“Girl,” Scott said quickly. “But we’ve got a whole list of names. And everyone wants to give names. Like, Cassie’s teacher wanted to name her _Agatha_ for a second, but—”

“No daughter of mine is going to be named fucking _Agatha_ ,” Hope said through gritted teeth.

“Yeah,” Scott said. “That.”

“Then what other names?” Peter asked. He glimpsed out the windows. They were almost to the hospital.

“Janet,” Hope gasped.

“After her mom,” Scott explained. “Which is great. Everything’s great. Janet was really pleased, and so was Hank—oh, man, Hank’s _so excited_ about having another granddaughter, and Cassie’s _so excited_ about having a baby sister, but we’ve got other names picked out, like—”

“Chloe,” Hope added.

“Cassie and Chloe,” Scott continued, grinning. “Isn’t that cute? It’s super cute, isn’t it?”

Peter only barely got in a nod before Scott barreled on, “Anyways, we were just talking about those baby names, and we were wondering on a middle name—I mean, it might wind up being Janet either way, just because, and we couldn’t really think of anything else as a middle name because some kids don’t even have middle names anymore. I mean, there was this girl in my third grade class who always confused me because she _never had a middle name_ —”

“ _Scott,_ ” Hope groaned. “Stop—”

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Scott said quickly. “Just got a little distracted—”

“No, that’s good,” Tony said, stopping the car. “Because we’re here. C’mon.”

With that, everyone practically rocketed out of the car and helped Hope out of the seat. After what was essentially a blur of white and hospital gowns and (mostly Scott) shouting, Peter found himself sitting in the waiting room with Tony.

“Well,” Tony said, breathing out. “All things considered, that didn’t go half bad.”

Peter let out a laugh. It sounded oddly loud in the otherwise silent waiting room. “Was it like that with you and Pepper? Having Morgan?”

“Nah, I was cooler,” Tony said. After a heartbeat, he said, “No, I wasn’t. I was a whole mess. Pepper took it like a champ. She was the one telling me to breathe. Can you believe that?” He shook his head, a smile spreading across his face. “She’s the one carrying a whole human _being_ in her stomach, and _she’s_ the one telling me to breathe.” He looked up at the doors in front of them. “But we were fine. Morgan came out fine. Pepper was fine.”

“Seems like that happens a lot,” Peter observed. At Tony’s sidelong look, Peter shrugged. “You know. Freaking out. Everything being fine.”

At that, realization slowly dawned on Tony’s face. “I didn’t check my messages,” he said, scrambling for his phone. Peter waited as Tony flicked through his texts and, a minute later, he dialed what Peter knew had to be Pepper’s number.

“Hey, Pep,” Tony said. He paused. “Yeah, we’re at the hospital now. It might take a while.” There was a long pause, and then Tony rubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. Peter’s here too. We might be…late, depending on what happens here. Their car broke down.”

Peter tugged out his own phone and stared intensely down at his own messages—one from May ( _stay safe! We’ll be waiting for you!!_ )—as Tony’s voice suddenly went soft. “Yeah, I know,” Tony repeated. “I’m sorry, too.” There was a long pause. “Love you too.”

And then Tony hung up, and Peter looked over at Tony. “Everything good?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Tony replied. “All good.” He braced a smile at Peter. “The older you get, the more stressful holidays. Getting the house ready every year and everything. Plans coming and going. Curveballs like early guests and…this.” Tony nodded at the doors.

Peter looked at the doors. “For some reason, I don’t think this happens commonly for people.”

“Don’t know,” Tony mused. “I know some people who have birthdays on Christmas.”

“Must be weird.”

“Mm.”

Then, Peter said slowly, “Sorry that things get stressful. I could help out more.”

“You already are,” Tony said. He nodded at Peter. “You’re here, aren’t you?”

Peter smiled. “Yeah,” he said, turning back around to the doors. “I guess.”

After a beat of silence, he added, “I can do more stuff, though.”

“Trust me, you definitely are next year,” Tony replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter to be posted tomorrow! Hope ya'll enjoyed this chapter! (Slightly inspired by the events of my own household, because ya girl has been going out of her mind helping out with Christmas stuff haha)
> 
> As always, comments/kudos/constructive criticism is always greatly appreciated! Merry Christmas Eve, everyone!!


	5. home for christmas

Tony had made his peace with Peter not coming for Christmas. “I wish I could,” Peter had said over the phone. “But I’m held up at work right now.” And Tony understood—sort of. He never really had to work entry jobs (hell, his “entry job” had been being the CEO of the biggest tech company, after all), but he knew Peter was working hard, and he knew that Peter wanted to get his job done right.

“I’ll come over for New Year’s,” Peter had said. “I promise.”

So that was why Tony was sitting on the couch right now, in a house that wasn’t completely silent but wasn’t exactly as loud as it used to be, either. It was a quiet Christmas—one with just Pepper and Morgan.

Now eleven years old, Morgan spent less time opening presents than she had in the years before and more time sitting on the couch next to Tony. She was flipping through the pages of another book, just one of the several she had requested for Christmas. Every once in a while, she looked up at the television screen to catch a scene of whatever movie was playing.

A few hours ago, it had been _Love Actually_. Then _Elf._ Then _Die Hard_. And now _Home Alone_ , which Morgan put her book down for.

“Still holed up here?”

Tony looked up to find Pepper walking around to his side. She wrapped a hand around Tony’s arm and, sliding into the couch next to him, she nodded at the television screen. “Soaking up all the Christmas joy?”

“Something like that,” Tony replied. He watched Kevin unleashing all his booby traps on the burglars. “I feel like I’m getting more inspiration for how to torment anyone in the future, though. Nothing like good old paint cans to discourage creeps, right?”

Morgan giggled, but Pepper only rolled her eyes. “I think we’ve got enough security here to do without the paint cans,” she said. “And the tarantulas and tar and—”

“Flamethrowers,” Morgan pointed out. “Can’t forget the flamethrowers.”

“And that,” Pepper said with an amused smile. “I think we’ve had enough of your suits to keep us all safe.”

“Don’t know,” Tony said casually. “I’m thinking the paint cans really do come in handy.” He looked back at the screen—at Kevin now running for his neighbor’s house where he knew the burglars would eventually get ahold of him.

“How’re things otherwise?” Pepper asked, squeezing Tony’s hand.

“Hm?” Tony looked at Pepper and, shrugging, he said, “All good. Food buzzed.” He gave an exaggerated yawn, stretched out one of his arms. “Successful Christmas. Right, Morgan?”

“Yup,” Morgan replied without looking away from the television. “Great Christmas.” But Tony noticed the slight deflection in Morgan’s voice, too, and he knew that she was thinking the same thing he was. Morgan had been looking forward to seeing Peter ever since holiday break started, and Tony knew that she had been looking forward to having at least this Christmas with him fully in the house.

Tony had explained the situation to Morgan, though. He had told Morgan that Peter was just busy, and that he wished to be here, but there were “mean bosses, and Peter didn’t want Tony to get involved”. And Tony had been close to getting involved, too—but in the same way Peter had told Tony not to say anything over his MIT application, Peter had told Tony not to say anything to his bosses.

“A successful Christmas,” Pepper repeated, turning to the television screen. Kevin’s mother was now fully in the polka van. “Funny. I would have figured you’d think it was a quiet one.” She squeezed Tony’s hand. “I know he wanted to be here.”

“Yeah, well,” Tony mumbled, but he rubbed his thumb over Pepper’s hand to let her know that she knew what he was referring to. “Things happen.”

He waited a second before adding in a quieter voice, “Kid just hasn’t had a proper Christmas since coming back and…” His voice drifted.

“I know,” Pepper said quietly. “But we’ve got so many Christmases. You know that, Tony.”

“Yeah,” Tony said. Kevin’s mother was standing in the doorway of the house now, calling after Kevin. “Lots of Christmases.”

He focused back on the movie, still holding onto Pepper’s hand. He watched Kevin slowly make his way to his mother, and then, just as the music swelled, there was a loud, clear knock on the door.

“You weren’t expecting any visitors, were you?” Pepper asked sleepily.

“No,” Tony replied. He looked to the door, and there was another knock. This time, Morgan lifted her head. There was a strange look on her face, but still, Tony stood up. He made his way to the door and, aware of Pepper and Morgan now watching after him, he turned around.

“Must just be some last minute packages,” Tony reasoned with Pepper’s concerned look. Then, turning back to the door, he swung it open and—

There was snow in Peter’s curls, and his cheeks were pink with the cold, but he wore the brightest smile Tony had ever seen.

“Merry Christmas,” Peter said, holding up a bag. “I’ve got some stuff.”

Tony felt a great weight being lifted off his chest and then, before he was even processing the situation himself, he was bringing Peter in for a hug. He heard Peter let out a surprised “ooph!”, followed by Peter’s arms slowly coming up around to meet Tony’s shoulders.

“Merry Christmas, kid,” Tony said quietly, and he felt Peter laugh against him.

“Peter!” Tony heard Morgan cry out, and then he felt Morgan at his side. When Tony looked down, Morgan had already wrapped her arms around Peter’s waist, and then Pepper was at Tony’s side, placing one hand on Peter’s shoulder and a “Merry Christmas”.

“I thought you were working?” Tony asked, pulling away briefly from Peter.

Peter shrugged. “Got stuff done early,” he replied. “And…” He shrugged again. “I didn’t want to be late for another Christmas with you guys.” He met Tony’s eyes and smiled sheepishly. “Just learning to balance stuff out.”

And Tony was suddenly reminded of another Christmas, this time one with a college freshman Peter Parker, a train, a long talk in snowy weather.

“Yeah,” Tony said, clapping his hands on Peter’s shoulder. “Looks like you really are.” He jerked his head back. “Come on in, kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, everyone!

**Author's Note:**

> Just because I needed to jump onto the holiday fics bandwagon. And, of course, I'm still in denial land. Because Peter Parker totally went to college and has Tony Stark visiting him every few weekends just to check on him. (And, as a college student myself, let me just say that the finals season was rEAL.)
> 
> As always, comments/kudos are greatly appreciated!!


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